


when all the world is quiet

by proser132



Category: Original Work
Genre: Light Dom/sub, Low Fantasy, M/M, though to be honest none of the fantasy has come in yet, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:17:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5013241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proser132/pseuds/proser132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is a prince who has at last been declared his father's heir. His guard and closest friend, Sir Jonathan, knows how they can celebrate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when all the world is quiet

**Author's Note:**

> written for a writethread on /y/, and I should be ashamed of that sentence. Somehow, I've retained my dignity.
> 
> Other parts to be added as I write them. At the time of posting, can be considered complete.

'It'll be fine, my liege,' Jonathan said quietly. Behind them, the sounds of the coronation's ball were both raucous and growing fainter as they made their way deeper into the castle, and Martin tried to calm his own nerves. It seemed so strange to be anxious now, when he was at last acknowledged crown prince of his kingdom; but then, he'd been preparing for this role his whole life. What he was about to do now? Not nearly so much.

'My liege?'

Martin looked up at his knight, the man who had kept him safe since they had both been boys new to the training yard. Jonathan waited patiently for him, silhouetted by torchlight in the great arch of the hall.

'I'm alright, Jonathan,' Martin assured. 'Just -'

'Nervous,' Jonathan finished, and smiled. 'Do not worry, my prince. None will notice us gone - they are all deep in their cups by now.'

Martin nodded, and gave a shaky smile. Jonathan held out a hand, one that Martin gladly took, and led the way up to Martin's private chambers.

The door closed behind them, and Martin took a deep breath before turning to face Jonathan fully. 'None saw us leave?' he said.

'None,' Jonathan affirmed. Here, in the privacy of his liege's chambers, Jonathan's face took on a new quality - one decidedly darker, more feral than his usual composed stoicism. Martin felt a shiver slide down his spine as if Jonathan already ran his fingers down his back.

'Then what - what do you intend to -?' Martin couldn't quite get the words out.

'Tonight? The night you at last have proven yourself the future ruler of this kingdom?' Jonathan said, his mouth curling up. 'I intend to remind you that for all your greatness, you are still -'

He darted forward and all but slammed Martin into the door. 'Only a man.'

Martin hadn't expected the sudden movement, nor the force behind it; Jonathan's eyes seemed darker now, his pupils wider, and Martin wanted to see what they would look like if he went further, pressed Martin harder into the sharp wood behind him.

Martin could resist. He knew that.

He didn't want to.

'What do you bid me?' he asked, and his voice was breathier than he'd expected it to be.

'Remove your clothing,' Jonathan said. Martin nodded, but eyed Jonathan's hands on his shoulders. 'Without removing me,' Jonathan added, grinning.

Martin opened his mouth, and Jonathan leaned forward heavily. 'And without talking.'

Martin nodded, and set to his task. His clothing fought him every step of the way – he'd always bemoaned the many catches and bits on his clothing, and now it was a struggle to not do so aloud. Jonathan's weight on him was a reminder, though, and soon his weskit was undone, the tunic and pants underneath much simpler to undo. He was left with looking rumpled, the two halves of the weskit hanging to either side and his pants and stockings kicked off and into a pile.

'You've forgotten something,' Jonathan murmured, eyeing the tunic.

Martin shrugged; it wasn't coming off him unless Jonathan moved.

'An uncreative man, I suppose,' Jonathan said at last, and with a loud ripping noise, tore the tunic down the middle.

Martin opened his mouth to object, but Jonathan glared him silent. He shrugged the ruined clothing off and stood exposed between Jonathan's solid arms.

Jonathan looked him over consideringly, and there was a touch of shame that rose in Martin's breast; he looked nothing like Jonathan, who was sleekly muscled from his many hours practising his swordcraft. His own skin was far paler, for one, and his middle was a touch soft.

'You will do excellently, my prince,' Jonathan sighed at last. 'On your knees.'

Martin slid down, silent and pliant beneath Jonathan's guiding hands.

'Undo my trousers. Nothing else.'

Martin reached out and began to pick apart the laces, fingers tracing lightly over the erect cock held in its confines. _This is doing something for him,_ he thought idly, finally pulling the trousers halfway down Jonathan's thighs. _Commanding me. I never thought -_

'Take me in your hands,' Jonathan said, his voice still certain, still solid, and Martin did as he asked.

His cock was – surprisingly warm, Martin realised, and thick, if not terribly long. He felt for a moment as if his mouth was hollow, a hunger that did not rise from his stomach. The prick hung slightly to the left in his hands, and he began to stroke it.

'No!'

Jonathan stepped away as Martin froze. 'Did I tell you to do that? Shake or nod.'

Martin shook his head, heart racing. Had he ruined it all so soon?

'Do only as I say, my liege.'

Martin nodded now, and held still as Jonathan neared again.

'Let's try this again. Take it in your hands.'

Martin did again as he was bade, and moved no further.

'Open your mouth.'

_Surely he doesn't intend to -_  Martin began to think, dread and anticipation making his hands tremble in equal measure, but opened his mouth, curling his lips over his teeth just in case.

'Hold me steady,' Jonathan said, and when he'd adjusted Martin's grip to where he wanted it, pressed closer.

They'd never done this before – hurried hands and gasping breaths, ruts where none could find them, but Jonathan had never said this was something he'd wanted. Martin began to feel a little cheated, but soon, cognizance was beyond him.

Jonathan's cock was thick in his mouth and almost too warm, feverish against Martin's tongue. He quickly figured out to breath through his nose, but that didn't help him much when Jonathan began to rock forward, breathing heavily and going deeper than Martin thought he would. He choked a little, but Jonathan didn't stop, just – kept moving.

The drag of his foreskin on Martin's lips, the brush of hair on his thighs against Martin's clean-shaven face, the scent of his sweat and something muskier, something that smelled much like the taste that was starting to collect on the back of his tongue, was mindblowing. Martin found himself sucking a little, moving his tongue, no longer content to be entirely passive.

Jonathan either didn't care in the first place or was too far gone to notice; he just rocked into Martin's mouth over and over, eyes closed and head tossed back when Martin chanced a peek.

Martin jerked when his hand stole down to his own erection, bare to the cool night air, and almost drove his own head forward at how good it felt to wrap his own hand around himself. Quickly, he pulled at his own cock, and sucked at Jonathan's.

Before long, Jonathan tensed on Martin's tongue, and a warm, bitter liquid splashed down Martin's thoat. Martin groaned loudly and fell back, arching his hips up into the air and coming on the stone floor.

Above him there was silence.

'Did I give you permission to do that?' Jonathan asked, and Martin swallowed. 'Answer.'

'No,' Martin murmured, and his voice was raw.

Jonathan grinned down at him, and Martin shivered at the dark look in his eyes. 'You'll pay for that, my liege,' he whispered, and Martin fought to not shiver again.

 

 

'Up, my prince.'

Martin rose to his feet shakily, muscles of his thighs trembling in the aftershocks of the orgasm, and stood still in the circle of Jonathan's arms. Jonathan was watching him, grin still on his mouth and eyes still dark. His hand came up, rough with callouses and years of training, and took Martin's chin in his fingers.

'You suck cock as if you were born to it, my liege,' Jonathan murmured, and turned Martin's head this way and that. 'Tell me the truth. How many men have you had in your mouth?'

Martin flinched. 'None, as you well know, Sir Jonathan,' he said sharply.

'Sir now, is it?' Jonathan said, and some of the darkness bled away, leaving his grin warm. 'I do know, my prince. I meant no offence.'

'How was that inoffensive?' Martin demanded.

'I suppose I was trying to continue the bedplay,' Jonathan replied, and now looked a bit sheepish.

'Hardly bedplay,' Martin said, smiling now. 'Against the door?'

'We could move to the bed,' Jonathan suggested with an over-the-top come-hither look that left Martin breathless with laughter.

'We could,' Martin agreed after a moment of shared mirth. 'Everyone's deep in their cups, you've said.'

'Aye, they are,' Jonathan said, stepping into Martin's space.

'None will notice us gone,' Martin continued, tilting his head up.

'Aye, they will not,' Jonathan answered, grinning wider.

'And if you insist on this sort of bedplay,' Martin said with a long-suffering sigh, and what he hoped was a playful flutter of his lashes, 'I suppose I could be persuaded to continue, so long as there is a bed in my near future.'

Jonathan leaned down, arms sliding over Martin's bare waist, the cloth of his sleeves the precise kind of rough Martin hadn't realised he was craving. 'In your very near future, I should think,' he said onto Martin's lips, and then kissed him fully.

Again, Martin was pressed to the wall, and the sharp edges of the door dug into his back; more important was Jonathan's fingers, pressing against the knobs of his spine like he wanted to touch the bones themselves. Martin opened his mouth before Jonathan could, and Jonathan groaned deep in his chest at the way Martin stood as tall as he could, crushing himself against his body. Jonathan's tongue was hot in Martin's mouth, and he licked at the traces of himself that still lingered.

It was too soon for either of them to begin stirring below the waist, but Martin didn't care, tilting his hips against Jonathan's and rolling them forward, rubbing his soft cock against the soft leather trousers and the bare flesh still exposed.

'You are a dangerous man,' Jonathan breathed, breaking away with a wet sound. 'You will be a mighty king.'

'Someday,' Martin replied, voice emerging hazily from his throat and leaning up to kiss at Jonathan's jaw. 'I'm content at the moment with being a dangerous man.'

'So wordy still,' Jonathan said, hands dropping to knead at Martin's ass and thighs. 'I have a cure for such an ill.'

Martin yelped a bit as Jonathan's grip tightened, hauling him up and onto Jonathan's waist. He scrabbled for a grip, arms tight around Jonathan's neck, and he wrapped his legs just as tightly. 'Warn me,' he huffed.

'And miss your startled face?' Jonathan teased, shifting Martin's weight with an effortless looking shrug. 'I could never.' He turned and marched straight towards the wide bed in the centre of the chamber, long soldier's strides steady beneath Martin. The movement rubbed their groins together, and Martin sighed, rocking into the movement; he took a great delight in the way it made Jonathan's steps falter. 'Hold still,' Jonathan commanded. 'I do not wish to drop you.'

The tone had Martin falling still almost before Jonathan finished his words, and Jonathan carried him the rest of the way without difficulty, setting him on the thick comforter. Martin released his hold with his arms, but not with his legs, falling back to rest his weight on his elbows. His hips remained close to Jonathan's, lifted off the mattress and requiring some effort to keep up.

'I find I am quite steady now,' he remarked, looking up at Jonathan through his hair. 'Am I free to move now, Sir Jonathan?'

Jonathan paused, a fleeting look of surprise crossing his face, but then the sweet dark from before filled his eyes as his hands flexed in and out of fists at his side. 'Do you ask my permission, my prince?' he said after a moment.

Martin tilted his head back. 'I am only a man tonight, Sir Jonathan,' he said. 'I must ask permission.'

Jonathan's look was fair burning now. 'Then move,' he growled, 'before I break beneath your gaze, my – Martin.'

Martin rocked up then, moving only his hips, trying to capture in the motion the same feeling that spilled through him at hearing his name and not his title on Jonathan's tongue. His cock dragged against Jonathan's, their balls brushed, the hair rasping and the muscles burning. Jonathan held still for a long moment, the tiny jerks of his hips the only betrayal of his stoicism, and then he fell upon Martin like a starving man upon bread.

His mouth was everywhere, his tongue, his teeth – Martin could feel bruises forming along his collarbone and jawline, and might have despaired of covering them up if he'd had the presence of mind to do so. Instead, he wound his arms around Jonathan's back and held on, bucking up against Jonathan's rocking motions, his cock half-hard and making a valiant effort to harden completely. Jonathan had already beaten him there, the burning heat of him rutting into the line of Martin's hip.

'You test me so, Martin,' Jonathan breathed into the dip between Martin's throat and his right shoulder. 'You drive me mad – how am I to resist you?'

He bit down harder than he had so far, and Martin cried out, because it was skirting the fine line between passion and pain, the way Jonathan tugged with his teeth. Jonathan's hand stole down and gripped Martin's cock before releasing his throat. 'I told you I would make you pay for before, Martin,' he said, hips still rolling forward, inexorable and tormenting. 'I meant it.'

He leaned back at last, and Martin whined high in the back of his throat, trying to thrust up into Jonathan's grip. It was no good – Jonathan's fingers were loose and moved with him, providing little to no friction.

Jonathan's free hand began to undo the rest of his clothing, and at last, he lay as naked between Martin's thighs as Martin himself. 'Make no noise,' Jonathan said. 'If you make a sound, I will stop.'

Martin nodded, throat dry, and Jonathan smiled at him. 'You may move, however,' he added, and brought the hand that wasn't wrapped around Martin's prick up to Martin's mouth. 'Suck, until my hand is wet. The wetter, the better.'

Martin took the fingers between his lips and did as he was told, licking the fingers until Jonathan pulled them away, long strands of saliva trailing from his fingertips to Martin's mouth.

'Very good,' Jonathan murmured, and dropped the hand to meet his other. 'Some here –'

Martin jolted at the cold touch, but had to struggle not to groan as the dry hand began to rub the saliva into his skin.

'- and some here,' Jonathan said, sliding the wet hand down past Martin's balls and along his taint before circling his hole with slick fingers. 'Some practice, first.'

The tip of one finger pressed in, and Martin tossed his head back, breathing hard and biting back a desperate moan. Jonathan's finger felt bizarre, intrusive, but the tightened grip around Martin's dick felt wonderful, and he snapped up into the touch, hands digging into the covers.

The finger pressed deeper, and Martin felt dizzy as twin urges warred within him – to thrust up into Jonathan's grip, or to roll down onto the intrusion.

'Good,' Jonathan whispered, leaning in to speak into Martin's ear. 'Look at you. You had no idea your body could do this, did you?'

Martin could only respond with a silent whimper, as Jonathan's finger crooked up and rubbed against –

'Oh, _god_ ,' Martin breathed, rocking up hard at the sudden burst of sensation. Jonathan's grip tightened painfully, and his hand stilled. 'Sorry, I – sorry,' Martin huffed out, but shut his mouth with a click at Jonathan's glower. Half a moment passed in stillness before Jonathan nodded, and stroked hard at the same time as he withdrew his finger.

Martin was only saved by his clenched teeth, and fought to keep silent as a second finger joined the first, rubbing hard now against whatever was so good inside of him. Jonathan resumed his quiet speech, a litany of 'you move so well', and 'you were born to lay beneath me' – words that burned in Martin's chest.

A third finger followed, and the burn was everywhere – in his muscles, in his soul, vibrating in his teeth and driving his fingers deeper into the cloth.

Jonathan pulled away again and jammed the fingers that had had until a second before been in Martin's body into his mouth. They came away as thickly coated as before, and he wrapped his long, rough fingers around himself, stroking once, twice. Martin watched, panting as quietly as he could, and let Jonathan manoeuvre his legs back up and around his waist.

'Remember, remain silent,' Jonathan said, and pressed the head of his cock against Martin's stretched entrance.

Martin would have said it hurt, had the bite on his throat not throbbed in tandem with the burning stretch, Jonathan's marks all over his body resonating with this great claiming. Jonathan moved steadily inward until the bones of their hips were pressed flush together, and Martin's hands scrabbled at Jonathan's back, well-cared-for nails digging furrows into the flesh there.

'I was wrong,' Jonathan said after a moment of holding still, Martin adjusting to the wide intrusion. 'You are no simple man. You are unlike any other. Even now, when you keep quiet with only a few words from me –' he sucked in a deep breath. 'You are still a prince here.'

He bent down, and said, lips moving against Martin's cheek, 'I look forward to breaking you.'

His hips withdrew and snapped forward, hard. Martin jerked into the movement, fingernails cutting into Jonathan's back, and he bit his lip so hard he could taste blood.

Jonathan fucked into him like he was fighting for his life, fast and hard and unstoppable, and Martin was certain even if he'd wanted to nothing could have stopped the motion of Jonathan's hips. He supposed, in a distant part of his mind, that should be frightening, but the part of him that was focussed on trying to fuck the rest of him silent was too enraptured to care.

'So good,' Jonathan was muttering over and over again, like other words were beyond him. 'So good, so good so good so good –'

His hand grabbed Martin's cock and pulled, callouses skimming over the heated skin, and Martin couldn't help it – he threw his head back and cried out, a long shout of sated desire and giving up, giving in.

Jonathan clapped a hand down over Martin's mouth, but Martin could feel his own muscles fluttering around Jonathan's cock, and it was only another thrust before Jonathan groaned, a deep noise that left them both puddled on the bed, limbs tangled and a wet warmth filling Martin's body.

'I told you not to make noise,' Jonathan said at last, licking the bite mark he'd left behind. 'Am I to spend the rest of our days punishing you for not doing as I say?'

Martin huffed out a laugh, catching some of Jonathan's hair in his mouth and spitting it back out. 'God, I hope so.'

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely requesters over at /y/!


End file.
